


finding what was lost

by CapriciousCrab



Series: Post-apocalyptic au [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Abandoned Child, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Apocalypse, no peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-15 13:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19617415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapriciousCrab/pseuds/CapriciousCrab
Summary: A discovery in woods changes everything





	finding what was lost

**Author's Note:**

> special thanks to insectbah for the beta work!

He sits and watches dust motes dance in a shaft of broken sunlight, glittering like fairy wings as they drift in the breeze that filters in through the rough slats of the shed. The wind whistles softly as it blows, and the rhythmic rattle of the door in its frame matches the steady beat of his heart.

Dan likes this. To his (and Phil's) surprise, he's found that he enjoys the calming repetition of milking their goat; the quiet minutes of contemplation are enough to calm his restless mind and steady his sometimes wobbly emotions. It's a moment of respite found in the sound of milk hitting pail and Bob's soft bleating.

It's warm today and he's glad he's not on bread duty this week. He's good at it and especially enjoys punching the dough into submission before letting it rise, but it's fucking hot in their tiny kitchen and he hates getting sweaty. At least, not that kind of sweaty. Sometimes he very much enjoys getting sweaty, especially when Phil does that thing with his mouth –

Bob bleats at him when his hands stop moving, pulling him from his daydream. Sometimes she gives him a nibble if he takes too long, so Dan's grateful today for her patience. He laughs and pats her side once he's finished and tosses a bit more hay into her trough, giving her ears a soft rub as he passes. 

“You're the very best of goats, Bob. None better in all of England.”

She snorts and goes back to munching her hay, thoroughly unimpressed with his opinion. Dan grins and shakes his head as he leaves, latching the door behind him before hefting his pail once more. He hasn't taken more than a handful of steps before he hears something break the silence of their little woods.

He turns slowly towards the copse and scans the treeline. It wasn't a threatening type of noise but he's still on alert, body poised to run or defend if need be. His eyes run over trees and shrubs as he waits to hear it again.

It's louder this time when it comes: a whiny, whimpering cry followed by a snuffling sort of hiccup. He sets the pail down slowly and creeps closer to the woods with a dry mouth and his heart beating fast in his chest. He can hear whatever it is rustling about in the grass, so he stops moving to stand frozen in place, hands shaking as he leans down to grab a stick. It's not much of a weapon, but at least it's something.

Holding the stick like a club, Dan shuffles forward one step, then another, before he finally finds the source of the noise. The stick falls from his numb hands as he stares down in stunned disbelief.

He sucks in a sharp breath and releases it in a stunned, shocked whisper. "Wh-what the fuck?” 

Before him on the ground sits a child. No, not a child but a toddler who couldn’t be much more than a year old. A tiny little thing with hair the color of wheat and puffy hazel eyes that widen with fear when they see Dan appear. The child lets out a terrified shriek as big, fat tears roll down flushed cheeks and Dan feels his heart break a little when he cringes back away from Dan.

“Oh no! Oh, baby, shh,” he croons, dropping to his knees before the child. “It's alright. It's ok, baby. Shhh.”

He looks around frantically, but there's nobody else to be seen. Where did the child come from? And what the hell happened to his parents? 

Dan leans forward and gently scoops the child into his arms, doing his best to soothe the crying toddler. He remembers seeing people bounce babies to quiet them and gives the little one a soft jostle as he pulls them closer to his chest. Rising to his feet he continues moving, unconsciously swaying back and forth as he looks around once more.

He sucks in a sharp breath when he spots an arm laying partially hidden by the long grass, the hand turned up as if in supplication. His eyes follow the length of the arm to discover the body it belongs to and he turns the baby's head away as he steps closer.

It's not the first dead body he's seen and likely won't be the last, but it humbles him every time, a stark reminder of just how fortunate he and Phil have been. Spotting a small rucksack laying nearby, he hooks the toe of his shoe through the strap and tugs it closer before leaning down to snatch it up. 

Dan shrugs it onto one shoulder as he turns toward the cabin, shifting the weight of the child until he's bundled high on Dan's chest, his face turned into Dan's neck as he cries. Patting the little one on his back, he casts a glance behind him, aware that his business here isn't finished. 

He exhales a shaky breath as he turns and heads for home. He needs to get to Phil, has to get this baby settled before returning with a shovel to offer the poor soul behind him a decent, if simple burial.

Dan only stops to grab the abandoned pail of fresh goats milk before climbing the steps to their porch, juggling the child in one arm and the pail in the other. He can't turn the handle like this, so he swings his foot forward to land a few solid kicks against the wood.

“Phil? Phil, open the damn door!”

He kicks again and hears Phil curse from inside as heavy footsteps cross the floor and the door is yanked open.

“Dan, what the hell?”

Hands covered in bread dough with a scrap of linen tossed over his shoulder, Phil stands there with a scowl on his face and flour dusting his shirt.

“Why didn't you just –” Phil's voice fades away as he stares at Dan in shock. Wide eyes darting between Dan's face and the bundle in his arms, Phil can't seem to make sense of what he sees.

“You… w-what the?” he stammers. “That's a baby!”

Any other time Dan would laugh. He'd throw an elbow into Phil's side and make some snarky comment about being Captain Obvious, but he doesn't feel much like laughing. Not now, when he's weighed down by about twenty pounds of crying, squirming child.

"I _know_ it's a baby! I'll explain when I get back." Trying not to drop either armful, Dan huffs out an exasperated breath. “Don't just stand there! Take him.”

“ _Me_?!” Thrusting his hands behind his back, Phil shakes his head nervously. “No, I can't. I'll drop it!”

“Phil, I swear to God if you don't take this child –”

“Alright, Jesus! But don't blame me if it falls.”

Reaching out with shaky hands, Phil lifts the child from Dan's arm and settles him into his own. Hazel eyes stare into blue for what feels like an endless moment… until the baby opens his mouth and lets out a wail louder than any other, which Phil promptly answers with one of his own.

“Dan! Dan, what do I _do_?”

Dan would laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all if he weren't facing a hysterical child and an equally freaked out Phil.

“Just hold him! He’s not a bomb, you buffoon.” 

Phil gingerly pulls the screaming child close to his chest and gives him a gentle pat on the bottom, leaving a floury handprint on the soggy, cloth-covered bum. “Shh, little one. It's alright.”

Dan finally sets down the pail and grabs his work gloves, trying to steel himself for the grim task to come. He looks from the child's red face to Phil's apprehensive eyes and sighs. 

"I'll explain everything when I get back, I promise. Can you heat up some bathwater while I'm gone?" 

Phil nods and searches Dan's face, eyes narrowing in concern at whatever he sees there. He tucks the baby a little closer and steps forward to press his cheek against Dan's.

"You ok?" Phil asks softly.

Dan smiles faintly as he tugs on his gloves, grateful for the moment of comfort.

"I will be."

  


**

Dan had barely gotten his shoes off and hands washed before Phil was passing the child right back to him. Phil had never been comfortable around babies, much preferring the older children who found his fantastical stories and wild interests fun and whimsical, so Dan's not surprised by his wariness. 

Dan bounces the boy on his hip now as he watches Phil gather bathing supplies before pacing anxiously around the room as the water warms. He'd noticed some scrapes and punctures on the little one's arms and legs and Phil had immediately panicked.

“We have to clean him up. Can't risk infection.”

Muttering under his breath about plasters and antibiotic paste, Phil shuffles through their medicine box, pulling items out as he goes. Dan watches the mound grow taller and holds back a laugh.

“Phil, I know that you're worried but he doesn't need all of that stuff,” he says gently. “Let's get him cleaned up first and then we'll see what's what, ok?”

They clean him thoroughly, taking care not to get shampoo in his eyes as they wash his mud-spattered hair. Dan tells Phil of his gruesome discovery and the terrible task that had come after as they soap his thin arms and legs, his concave little tummy and rash covered bottom making Phil wince in concerned sympathy.

Blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes, he looks at Dan with a frown on his face. “How long do you think he was out there alone?”

He's washing tiny toes now and Dan finds himself touched by the sight of Phil's long, elegant fingers holding that chubby foot so delicately. It stirs something within him, something that's lain dormant since the end of everything familiar. They’re faded memories now, those whispered conversations late at night in the safety of their bed and their closely held plans that had fallen away in the struggle for survival, and Dan yearns once more for the life that could have been.

“Dan?”

He looks up to find Phil's eyes on him, soft and understanding. It's grief he's feeling, he realizes. His chest aches with it, a dull throb of pain when he thinks about the loss of those unrealized dreams. 

Phil reaches across the washtub for Dan's hand and brings it to his mouth, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. He doesn't say anything, just offers Dan a moment of quiet comfort as they reflect on all that had been lost.

Dan shakes his head and gives Phil a tremulous smile before returning his attention to the baby. Happily splashing at the soap bubbles floating atop the water, he babbles and laughs, seemingly unconcerned with the two men watching him. 

Dan flicks a bubble toward the baby's hands, grinning at the squeal of happiness the action brought before looking up into Phil's face. “I suppose it doesn't really matter now, does it? He's safe, isn't he?”

He lifts the child from the tub and into the towel Phil's holding out for him, swaddling him tight and rubbing the cloth over his damp little head. The baby squawks at being removed from his bath, his tiny chin trembling as he looks at Dan sadly. The sight of tears rising once more in those eyes brings an answering lump of emotion to Dan's throat. He looks at Phil helplessly.

Phil sighs and gets to his feet, passing a fresh square of linen into Dan's hand. “Use this for a nappy until I can find something better. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

He watches Phil leave the room then frowns in concentration as he wraps the material around the child's bottom. It's haphazard and a bit too loose but it holds when Dan lifts him once more. He can hear Phil moving things around in the bedroom but before he can ask him what he's doing, the baby's stomach rumbles and he lets out a weak little cry.

“Oh shit, you're probably hungry!”

Sitting the child on the floor, Dan moves to the large clay pot on the counter and lifts the cloth covering to reveal the creamy goat's milk from earlier stored neatly within the smaller clay pot nestled inside. He ladles a small amount into a mug before returning to pick up the child. He settles him on his hip and presses the mug to tiny lips, tilting gently as the child gulps it down eagerly. He'll have to make him something a bit more filling, but this will do for now.

"What are we going to do with you, little one?" Dan hummed, swaying the now drowsy baby in his arms. His finger is held tight by a dimpled fist and it feels a bit like his heart is being squeezed too. "Are you all alone now or is there someone looking for you?" 

He tips his head down to nuzzle at the soft, sweet-smelling head that droops against his chest. He starts when Phil enters the room, the small rucksack clutched in his hand, and tries not to flush at the warning look Phil aims in his direction

"Dan," Phil sighs tiredly as he waves Dan toward the sofa. "Dan, don't… don't get attached."

Dan bristles at that, his spine going stiff as a scowl creases his face. He opens his mouth to snap, to accuse Phil of being cold and heartless, but the hand Phil raises in appeal has Dan biting back the words.

"Just wait, alright? Listen to me before you yell?"

The knowing look Phil gives him makes him snort and then the tension between them dissolves and fades away. Phil smiles briefly before sobering quickly, looking away from Dan and the child.

"We need to look through his things. Maybe there will be something inside that will help us figure out what we should do."

Dan wants to say no. He just wants to pretend for a while that this is _their_ child, the one they would have had if the world hadn't gone to shit. But it's wrong, he knows it's wrong, so he sighs and nods his head as he sits. Sleepy hazel eyes look up at him, the heavy blinks giving way to slumber and Dan can't help but cuddle him closer.

There's not much in the little bag when Phil empties it: a few cloth nappies, a small first aid kit, and a battered notebook. Phil folds the linens and sets them aside before reaching for the book. He opens it and skims, his face grave as his eyes scan the faded ink. He looks up at Dan before starting to read aloud.

_Cam was born on a sunny Tuesday afternoon to the sound of his mother singing him into the world. Shayla was a proper naturalist and swore that singing relaxed the body and created positive energy to welcome him into the world._

_She died two days later. Unable to stem the bleeding from an injury we couldn't heal, she passed from this life with Cam laying beside her. He slept through her passing and when I rocked him back to sleep in the middle of the night, I cried enough for the both of us._

-

_We had to leave our little village. Resources were getting scarce and I couldn't risk Cam's health. It's just him and I now, so I packed up the few things that would be of some use and started walking. Perhaps some of the northern areas are better supplied._

"The next couple of entries talk about their travels: notes about little villages they'd stopped in, a few people they had met along the way." Phil thumbs through the pages, his hands stilling when he comes to the last entry. "Oh."

Dan looks up from the baby's face, _Cam's_ face, and lifts a brow in silent question.

_I'm getting close to the end of my journey and my thoughts are consumed with getting Cam to safety. The road north has been a difficult one and I've given Cam everything we had left._

_I saw a little cabin on the other side of these woods when I was looking for a little something to feed the baby. Perhaps someone kind lives there, who wouldn't mind letting us stay… just for a while._

_But the day has been long and I'm weary. I just need a spot of rest before I cross the woods to ask for shelter. Just a short nap to regain my strength. And maybe I'll see my Shayla once more in my sleep._

  


"God, Phil! He was so close to making it. If he would have just kept going…"

Phil's face is drawn, his eyes moving to look at the baby cradled in Dan's warm arms. He reaches down to caress Cam's baby-fine hair, careful to keep his fingers soft and gentle, and sighs. 

"Poor little mite," Phil murmurs softly. Cam smacks his lips in his sleep and turns his face towards Dan's chest and the sight brings a slight smile to Phil’s face. "Dan, do you think it's wise to keep him here with us?"

Panic twists Dan's stomach into knots. He opens his mouth to argue but all that escapes is a plea. "Phil –"

"Maybe someone at the outpost can take him. Someone who knows what they're doing." Phil shrugs and looks away, fingers twisting the edges of the little journal. "We don't know anything about babies."

"So we'll learn."

"And what if we mess it up? What if he gets sick or hurt or –"

Dan bumps Phil's knee with his own, drawing his gaze back to Dan's face. "Babe, kids get sick. They get sick, they get hurt and you know what? They also get better."

Phil sighs and rubs his hands over his face. "Dan, it's hard out here. We barely have enough, there's always work to be done, this place is tiny. I just – I just don't know... "

He lifts his arm and draws Phil under it, pulling him close as he listens to Phil's voice fades away. They're quiet for a while, each lost in his own thoughts when Phil's whisper reaches his ear.

"It feels wrong. Like we've taken something that doesn't belong to us."

Dan's not sure what to say. He can't deny feeling a bit of the same guilt that seems to plague Phil, a twisted sense of profiting from someone else's terrible misfortune. But when he looks at the child sleeping in his arms, he can't bring himself to consider the alternative.

"I know that's it's all scary and sudden. But we're all that he has now, Phil."

Phil sighs again and it's a sound of fear and guilt and acceptance as he holds out his arms for the baby. Dan carefully tucks the sleeping boy into the crook of Phil's arm and swallows against the rush of emotion at the sight.

The dying fire casts flickering shadows over Phil's face, turned in profile as he looks down at Cam in his arms. It's so close to the image Dan had always held secret in his heart that he nearly weeps.

"Phil?"

"Hmmm?" he hums in return, his fingers gently holding Cam's tiny hand.

There are a thousand things he wants to say, his mind swirling with emotion-laden thoughts. But the only thing he manages to say is the same words he's said a million times or more.

"I love you."

Phil looks up and over, then smiles. "I love you, too."

"Let's put him to bed, yeah? We're both exhausted," Dan says as he helps Phil to his feet. "We'll figure the rest out as we go."

The bedroom is dark, dimly lit by the single candle they keep beside the bed, but it's enough for Dan to see just what Phil had been so occupied with earlier.

The duvet was turned down and their feather-stuffed pillows plumped invitingly. But that's not what had his heart swelling with love for the man standing so sheepishly beside him.

The space between the pillows had been carefully cleared, the sheets smooth and crisp and covered with the last remaining tattered scrap of Phil's quilt. The blues and greens are muted now, the patterns faded from years of being hung to dry in the sunlight but it was still soft and well-loved, a cherished memory of a day years ago and a gift from a long-lost friend.

"Oh!" He chokes on his words as he turns around to face Phil. "Oh, Phil…"

For on the quilt sits a tattered little thing of fur and fluff. The mane has been worn away by the anxious stroking of Phil's fingers, it's whiskers gone missing in spots from years of rubbing, but there's no mistaking the sight of the plush little lion. It had been Phil's talisman of sorts, a comfort item he had taken out night after night to soothe his anxiety as they made their way in this new life together. 

Now Phil's beloved Lion sits waiting for the child he holds carefully cradled in one arm.

Dan strokes his hand down Phil's free arm, his fingers slipping between Phil's as he tugs him close for a soft kiss. He rests his head on Phil's shoulder and breathes quietly as the storm of emotion stills and calms. 

"Don't get attached, isn't that what you said? Fucking softy is what you are," Dan teases softly, huffing out a laugh as Phil scoffs out a whispered protest. 

"I'm not! He just needs – he needs a cuddly friend ok? So he's not afraid in the dark and…" Phil's voice trails away as Dan looks at him with a knowing smile. 

Phil laughs softly and gives up. "Let's just go to bed, okay? He'll be waking us before we know it."

Nestling Cam between them, they creep into bed gently so as not to wake him and lace hands as they watch him sleep. They speak in soft whispers, new fears and worries filtering in now that the enormity of their decision has struck them, but eventually Phil drifts off, leaving Dan to listen to two sets of breathing in the quiet dark of their little home. 

Dan's eyes grow heavy and as he edges toward sleep, he whispers a promise to Cam's lost parents that while he and Phil will love and raise Cam as their own, they will never be forgotten. 

The course of their lives has been changed once more with the appearance of little Cam; a precious gift discovered in the shadows of their little copse of trees. And when Dan dreams that night, his hand joining Phil's to rest protectively over the baby in their bed, he dreams of finding what was lost.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> come say [hi](https://capriciouscrab.tumblr.com/post/186080041700/finding-what-was-lost-rating-t-words-38k) on tumblr!


End file.
